


Cutting Ties

by Fyeahvarric



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyeahvarric/pseuds/Fyeahvarric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple favor offers a weight lifted and a weight gained for both Cecilia Hawke and Isabela respectively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago and it's the first, or perhaps the second, time I've written Isabela. (Lord only knows if I've done her proper justice or not.) It's very brief, but it was enjoyable for me to look even a little bit in to the things Cecilia Hawke feels after Leandra's death, as well as peek a bit in to the friendship she has with Isabela.
> 
> Also, there's a teeny, tiny hint of unresolved FemHawke/Varric in this.

Cutting Ties

~~~~~

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Cecilia looked ahead, staring at the hot embers burning in the fireplace and smelling the ashes, showing no indication that she intended to glance behind her. Isabela wasn’t sure if the steadfast avoidance of eye contact was purposeful, meant to hide emotions Cecilia was not yet ready to share, or if the flickering shape of the flames were simply that interesting a sight to behold.

“It’s just hair, Isabela. I can always grow it back out again.”

It was a good point, but still a shame nevertheless. Cecilia was nothing if not stubborn when she’d come to a decision and Isabela found no need to contest the choice her friend had made, no matter how much of a pity it may have been to lop off such lovely hair.

“Merrill is going to miss it. She had such fun braiding it for you.”

“It was only that one time and we were both a little tipsy. I hardly think she’ll mourn.”

Isabela let her fingers comb through the pale strands trailing down between Cecilia’s shoulders, easing the locks free of the simple cord keeping them bound, trying to discern where she was meant to start cutting.

“Same as it used to be? Above your shoulders?”

“Yes. Just as it was when we first met. Not so terribly short that way, right?”

Perhaps Cecilia was attempting to offer reassurances with the remark, let Isabela know that she was just vain enough that she didn’t want to cut away all of her hair until there was little, if any left. The pirate wasn’t completely certain, couldn’t quite tell what it was that had prompted her fellow rogue to make a change when she’d only just let the strands grow out in recent months. What had suddenly inspired Cecilia to care about the way she looked when typically she only paid her appearance a fairly modest amount of concern? Maybe it was nothing, just a simple desire for change on a whim. Isabela would have been happy to believe as much were it not for the tension in Cecilia’s shoulders stating otherwise, alluding to something more.

The gentle combing of fingers through the lengthy waves, nails gently grazing the blonde’s nape, seemed to sooth the stern set of Cecilia’s shoulders, relaxing her steadily and easing away the visible tension. Isabela had spent many years learning how to touch, how to give pleasure in even the simplest ways, finding that a bit of hair petting could be terribly lulling, perhaps even coaxing when necessary.

“I thought it was for Varric, you know. When you started growing it out I’d been so sure it meant you’d finally started listening to me and decided to try making his head turn.”

Isabela continued combing through the thick locks, soft beneath her careful fingers, and she waited for answers, certain Cecilia had to be relaxed enough to give them. The tension hadn’t returned, the relaxed slump of her friend’s shoulders unchanging, even despite the sigh in answer to her query; heavy and full of weariness.

“It was for Mother.”

It hadn’t been the answer she’d quite expected, fingers growing as still as her breath for just a moment, the admittance catching her somewhat off guard.

“She used to tell me from time to time that she wished I would let it grow out, that it would look lovely in a braid or with curls like Bethany. I thought that it might dissuade her from indulging thoughts about finding me a suitable husband if I placated her by letting it grow. It actually started working for a short while.”

Cecilia let out a soft laugh, one that was far too brief to showcase any genuine mirth, and Isabela couldn’t say she blamed her for finding more pain than joy in the memories. Her grief in the past few weeks had gone largely unspoken, unshared, but the absence of it on her face didn’t necessarily mean that the sorrow had gone away. Speaking a few words and even fewer tears in front of her friends couldn’t possibly have been enough to aid Cecilia in coping with so recent a loss.

“I don’t want the reminder.”

Traces and touches of Leandra’s presence still lingered in the estate, behind the closed door of a bedroom Cecilia would never open again herself. Knick-knacks and scents could be avoided easily enough, but memories never went away. They lingered in the mind, pained the heart as much as they warmed it, especially when grief overwhelmed the fondness of recalling memories past. Even something as simple and light as longer hair could feel like a heavy weight when it came attached to recent hurts. Isabela could understand wanting to shed the reminder and cut away what helped keep the heartache strong. Cecilia may not have wished to speak openly of what she felt or how she hurt, but at the very least she needed the comfort of not having to confront her own sadness simply by staring at her own reflection each day.

“Orana might be a bit better at this than I am. Are you sure you trust me to get it straight?”

Isabela let herself smile, making light of the moment when she was certain it was what Cecilia truly needed, gathering the soft hair she’d been toying with. The dagger she slipped in to her hand had been sharpened recently, would cut with little difficulty, and make the process easy for the both of them.

“Of course. I’d trust you with my life as well as my hair.”

The blade cut clean and even, the pirate falling silent as she worked, trying to focus on blonde hair rather than unexpected words. She wasn’t certain what she could say or even what she felt other than shocked, perhaps even a bit fearful. A few years of friendship, years of shared drinks and coin, hadn’t quite prepared her for such an unanticipated sentiment. Laughter or lust was familiar and welcome. They always had been. An easy admittance of trust felt almost foreign and Isabela couldn’t recall the last time anyone had ever expressed faith in her in such an earnest manner.

As the weight in Cecilia’s heart was lessened with every inch of hair her companion cut away, Isabela felt heavy with a new weight of her own.

“It’s done.”

Cecilia brushed stray pieces of hair off of her shoulders, trying to push away clinging bits of a reminder she couldn’t handle and Isabela, silent again as she put her dagger away, was left standing amongst the clumps of pale gold on the floor, thinking of the trust she would have to betray.

Neither of them felt comforted.


End file.
